


Signs

by Ukki



Category: Inazuma Eleven
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everyone Is Alive, M/M, Mentions of underage drinking, They're highschoolers, rated for language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 08:09:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15263124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ukki/pseuds/Ukki
Summary: Terumi wonders if liking your crush and his girlfriend's pictures on Instagram counts as being a good sport or a terrible sport. He also wonders why he even bothers opening Instagram in the first place these days.Tadashi is begging him to stop feeding his masochistic streak. Terumi thinks there's a certain charm to martyrdom.





	Signs

The one thing he has in common with Atsuya Fubuki is a hint of not-misplaced pompousness. That's what he calls it. What _Tadashi_ calls it is “being a self-absorbed jerk and a general pain to everyone involved”. Terumi will take either, as long as the key point (that is, that he and Fubuki have something in common, whatever that might be) is not questioned.

Terumi believes in fate as long as it doesn't inconvenience him: good horoscopes are a sign, bad horoscopes are nothing but malicious balderdash. Who is the wicked prick that goes around writing that Tauruses need to reevaluate their goals? Terumi likes how the word _balderdash_ rolls off of his tongue. Him having something in common with Fubuki is definitely a sign.

“A sign of your ludicrous _thirst_ ,” Tadashi says, delicately.

Terumi flips him off.

 

Fubuki looks sheepish. This must be the first time Terumi has seen him with this expression. He knows it is because he scores a perfect 20/20 in face recognition, and he must have all of Fubuki's expressions categorized and alphabetized by now. He tenderly places “sheepish” right after “sassy”. He puts extra care in the operation, hoping his brain will get distracted enough that it'll forget why Fubuki is looking sheepish in the first place.

Fubuki chooses that moment to say “So, huh, I hope we can stay friends”, which is a hideous thing to say to someone you never even dated, and Terumi plasters a comforting smile on his face and says, warmly, “Of course”.

He eyes the girl (“My Girlfriend”, Fubuki called her, and some other name that was drowned out in the background noise of Terumi's brain yelling in tragic agony) and smiles at her too. She's not fooled. He feels sorry for her.

 

Terumi has never been subtle one day of his life. He sobs openly on Tadashi's shoulder (Tadashi is a saint) and contemplates underage drinking followed by underage puking in your best friend's guest toilet and underage flushing your sorrows away.

“He might still be bi. Pan?” Tadashi ventures, patting his head. He's painfully awkward and Terumi loves him more than he has ever loved anything in his life.

“I overwhelmed him, didn't I,” Terumi sniffles. He tries futilely not to get snot on Tadashi's shirt. He wishes he cried like an anime character, with all the sparkling tears and floating rose petals. He's pretty sure drool showed up fashionably late to his pity party.

“You _might_ have been a touch overt,” Tadashi concedes. Terumi recognizes he could have sent a few double (triple) texts too many. And put too many heart emojis in those double texts. Terumi has never been good at flirting. He just throws love and bad innuendos in the other person's general direction and hopes they like his face. Most do.

 

Terumi wonders if liking your crush and his girlfriend's pictures on Instagram counts as being a good sport or a _terrible_ sport. He also wonders why he even bothers opening Instagram in the first place these days.

Tadashi is begging him to stop feeding his masochistic streak. Terumi thinks there's a certain charm to martyrdom.

 

Tadashi has always maintained that Terumi must lack that tiny voice in the back of your head that warns you when something is _too much_. Terumi has always demurely agreed.

Which is, he reckons, how he ends up in the hall of Fubuki's place, clutching at the scarf Fubuki left behind (Terumi thinks benevolent Gods might have interceded for him) and hoping this whole affair doesn't end with him getting a restraining order.

He rings the bell and listens to the buzz inside and he doesn't know what he is expecting. It was a foolish, foolish thing to come here, he realizes. You're a mushy idiot. The most likely outcome is Fubuki will be mad at him for intruding. What was Terumi thinking. Was Terumi even thinking. He hopes he isn't sweating into his jacket.

The door unlocks and the guy who opens it looks like Fubuki took a dip into a tub full of bleach. He regards Terumi up and down and Terumi's gaze lingers shamelessly on the light caught by his lip piercing.

“Can I help you?” the Fubuki-that-isn't-Atsuya asks him.

Terumi takes a whole minute to answer. Not-Atsuya must have seen the scarf by now. “I, huh, think Atsuya left this behind at school today. My house is nearby – that's lie number one – so I thought I'd drop by and leave it here for him.”

“Are you Afuro? Terumi?” not-Atsuya asks again, raising one eyebrow at him. Terumi's intentions are more transparent than the thin skin on his temples.

“Yes,” he says, graciously, marveling at the fact that Atsuya must have told this guy about him and pointedly stopping his brain in its tracks before it can wonder _what_ Atsuya might have said about him. “And you are…?” because referring to him as not-Atsuya is starting to get tiring.

“Shirou,” the guy says. His voice is a little deeper than Atsuya's. Terumi's skin is tingling. “Atsuya is my brother.”

“Enchanted,” Terumi says smoothly. Shirou's eyebrow stays raised.

“Atsuya's not home right now. I'm sorry. Did you come all this way to see him?” He's delicately mocking and hideously tactless. It's charming as all hell.

“Oh no, don't worry about it. It's all fine, – that's lie number two – I just wanted to give back the scarf.”

He hands it in, and it feels like he's giving up a piece of his soul. Shirou's fingers linger around his longer than necessary.

“My brother has been rude to you. I'm sorry about that,” and he sounds it, “But you should probably try to move on, yes? Go look for someone who will make you happy. You're pretty. It'll be easy.”

He looks up at Terumi from under a crown of fair eyelashes and Terumi thinks, it's never easy.

 

Tadashi is skeptical. Terumi can't blame him.

“You do realize you're talking about actual human beings and not, like, clothes on a rack? Red doesn't flatter me, I'll try white. You know it doesn't work like that, right?”

Terumi does know. He also knows it's not like that, but it's hard to put into words and harder to sound credible.

“I just think I like him,” he says helplessly. “Not because he looks like… you know. I just think I like him.”

Tadashi gives him the you-only-spoke-to-him-once-in-your-life look. Terumi hates that Tadashi has one specific look for it.

“One time,” Tadashi says, “Call him by his brother's name _one time_ and you'll break the poor guy's heart.”

 

Shirou accepts his friend request on Facebook. Terumi adheres to a strict no-hearts policy for a whole three days before he caves in and sends him a kissy emoji after wishing him good night. Shirou types intermittently for a minute, then sends him one back. Terumi takes a long time falling asleep.

 

Terumi has scared most of his partners away. He can't tell right atmosphere from wrong, won't wait long enough, will drop the L-word as soon as he feels ready and he has found that most people don't have a particularly good reaction to being told that he loves them over Chipotle.

He waits as long as he can before asking Shirou out. He carefully avoids mentioning the word _date_ , but he still overdresses for a trip to the movies to watch _Deadpool_. Ryan Reynolds deserves it. He looks at Shirou in the dark and when Shirou looks back he forgets to look away.

Shirou kisses him hard on the mouth as the credits roll and Terumi shivers at the coolness of his piercing. “Sorry,” Shirou says, “I just can't be someone's second choice, you know.”

Terumi knows. He wishes he didn't. He cries himself to sleep that night.

 

Tadashi expects him to blow up any moment. Terumi does too. He's endlessly amazed by his own endurance.

“It was my fault,” he says serenely, “I should have smashed my phone against the wall the second I decided to ask him out”. His phone or his head, same difference.

 

Shirou's standing in front of his open door and Terumi is acutely reminded of a similar situation with the roles reversed a lifetime ago.

Shirou's cheeks are looking pink and he's worrying his piercing between his teeth. Terumi is distracted.

“I'm sorry,” Shirou says finally, “I shouldn't have left you hanging there.”

“You left before the post-credits scene. In a _Marvel_ movie,” Terumi points out.

Shirou blushes and chuckles. He's pretty. It hurts. “I panicked,” he admits. “Taking you up on a date and then kissing you and _then_ leaving? That was kind of a dick move, wasn't it?”

Terumi tries to smile. The part of him that wants to comfort Shirou and the part of him that got its heart shattered are having passionate hate sex in his head.

“I'm sorry,” Shirou says again, and his eyes are shiny and if he starts crying Terumi will too. Terumi has been looking for an excuse to start crying for the past few days. “You don't have to take me back. You _really_ don't have to. But if you do, I promise I won't freak out on you again.”

Terumi hugs him. His chin rests perfectly on the top of Shirou's head. It's a _sign_ , Terumi thinks, and then he's crying and he has a hunch Shirou might be too. He prays his next-door neighbor doesn't choose this moment to come ask him for a cup of sugar.

“I need a little time to think,” he says, and he hates it, but Tadashi would be _so_ proud of him. Tadashi'd better buy him macadamia brittle Häagen-Dazs as a consolation prize.

“Understandable,” Shirou sniffles. He untangles himself from Terumi's embrace and his face is a mess, but he's still a better crier than Terumi is. If he still wants to be with Terumi after seeing him like this, then he's the one. He cradles Terumi's head in his hands and strokes under his eyes with his thumbs. It's comforting. Too bad being shown affection only makes Terumi cry harder. “Please, _please_ for once in your life do what's best for you,” Shirou says, “Make your heart shut up for _one_ second and use it to think with your brain. Please.”

It's the sweetest way Terumi's ever been called a dumbass.

 

Terumi does take some time to think. He lies on his bed, stares at the ceiling and tries not to think of Shirou's lip piercing. That's when Atsuya calls him. Terumi regards his name on the display of his phone and he doesn't feel the usual pull of want in his stomach.

“Hello?” he says, voice steady.

Atsuya's sheepish again. “Hi,” he says. “I wanted to apologize to you.” All the Fubukis seem to want to do as of lately is apologize to him.

“Thank you,” Terumi says.

“And also. I wanted to talk. About my brother. Is that okay?”

“Is that okay with him?”

Atsuya laughs. “Don't tell him I called you.”

Terumi won't.

“He's a good guy.”

Terumi knows that.

“I think he was scared. We're _twins_.”

Pause.

“He didn't mean to hurt you.”

“Thank you,” Terumi says.

 

Shirou laughs against his mouth. Terumi's lip catches on his piercing.

“Don't get distracted,” he says. “Ryan Reynolds is too hot for you to miss his post-credits scene twice in a row. _Focus_.”

“Shut up,” Shirou says, “I gotta make it right.”

He cups Terumi's face and his eyes are soft and fond when he looks at him. “I think I'm in love with you,” he says.

“You're a fool.”

“Learned from the best.”

Terumi is _happy_.

They miss the post-credits scene.


End file.
